Nothing sets me into a contemplative mood than long travels. I took a ferry from Manila to Cagayan de Oro (CDO), where for three days and two nights there wasn't anything much to entertain me other than my own, random thoughts on love, marriage, travelling - life in general - also politics, life on Mars, the RH bill and many other unrelated sh*t.
I took the cheapest accommodation minus a student discount - a large, untiled room with no windows and airconditioning, just huge openings overlooking the ocean. These openings don't close, and the shipping management didn't even bother putting a tarpaulin to cover them. There were rows upon rows of double deck beds, baggage - travelling bags, plastic pails of biscuits, huge carton boxes containing anything from clothes to chickens - all these sat on beds and on whatever small gap was left between the beds. The atmosphere was communal, and everyone shared each others stories as if we've known each other for a very long time.
At night the cold wind from the sea blew inside, and tamed our hot, crowded room. I could hear the waves and every creak of the ship's metallic parts. When the waves are strong, the creaks are so loud as though the ship is falling apart. When it rains, the drizzle gets inside as well.
There are six televisions in the room, hung on the walls and perpetually turned on, full volume in fixed channels. I couldn't imagine sleeping on a bed close to any of these televisions, where other passengers would crowd come the evening newscasts and telenovelas. But the passengers who were didn't seem to mind being close to the televisions. I saw a guy sleeping soundly amidst an eager crowd of Ms. Universe spectators.
When the view of our accommodation bored me, I took a stroll on the viewing decks to stared at the ocean - vast and unvaried. Once in a while, an island faraway, an old fishing vessel and one or two fishermen, will be in sight. On the second day, luck struck when the seemingly uninteresting view was turned into a sort of spectacle - a group of birds flew around the ship, diving at the ocean - while the passengers cheers. I didn't know what exactly the birds were doing - bathing or to catching fish - and they seemed to be following the ship for some reason. My last trip on a ferry three years, I saw a school of dolphins jumping into the air. I was hoping for this to happen again but it didn't.
The evening of the second day we arrived at the beautiful port of Cebu overlooking its humble but well-lit low-lying skyline. The passengers who disembarked where then replaced with new passengers.
I don't usually book tickets months in advance, and the past few years I've been lucky to get promo airline tickets just a week before a planned travel. This time, however, I ran out of luck. I had no choice but to book a ferry ticket - a longer, and more expensive way to travel (ironically, as most passengers are not as well off as airline passengers). To make things worse: the Ipil Dorm closed on the 17th. I booked also on the 17th and got a ticket for the 19th. Without a roof above my head I was forced to stay at a pension house in Manila for two nights. And to make things even worse that what they already are - the ticket I booked was for CDO, which is four hours by bus from Butuan.
Let me share something about my stay at a pension house before I boarded the ship. I booked a room in a place called Friendly's Guesthouse in St. Adriatico in Malate, Manila. The experience was both pleasant and surprising. I only knew Malate as a red light district - and true enough there were plenty of bars and beer clubs nearby, some had women in skimpy outfits waiting outside their respective establishments. As I walked to Friendly's I was approached by a man who carried a laminated catalog of prostitutes. I didn't know, however, that Malate is also a haven for foreign backpackers. When I got to Friendly's, the guards were unusually friendly. They spoke to me in English, and were in all smiles. I told them I am Filipino, and after a snatching a few minutes of conversation (on why I'm travelling) - they instructed me to take the elevator to the fourth floor. There, the receptionist greeted me with unusual friendliness. He also thought I was Vietnamese. Turns out the place is mostly occupied by foreigners. I paid P395 for an airconditioned room of 10, all guys. I spoke briefly with a Korean guy who thought I was Korean, and an Australian (judging by his "Strine" accent) who, again, thought I was Vietnamese. I was the only Filipino in the room - there were two Koreans in their 30s, one extremely shy Chinese boy (probably just 16) who never spoke a work, a French guy (judging from the French radio he listened to on loud speaker) in his 20s, while the rest were Austalians on their 40s.
I'm not usually surrounded with foreigners often, and the only foreigners I meet on a regular basis are my Cambodian classmates who rarely talk. I thought that I might consider staying in Friendly's again and befriend, hopefully, a South East Asian. For P395 a night, I can't complain. Even the dingiest motel in Cubao would charge more than P500 a night. As expected with backpackers, the rooms reeked of a quaint sour smell - probably from a down blanket owned by one of the Australians - which I've gotten used to eventually. Bags, socks, shirts and food packages were everywhere. The room service guy tried his best to tidy up the room every morning, to no avail. Again, I'm not complaining. My dormroom bed is even worse. The pension house has a sort of socials area, where occupants drink, talk and use the free wifi. I went to the place just to take a picture of the skyline - it was noisy, all sorts of accents mixed in the air. It seems that I was the only Filipino and South East Asian-looking among the guests. It was hard to join a group and enter their conversation. I saw the Chinese teenager again, alone in his table, drinking bottled water, while the rest of the tables had beer. I wished I had the courage to talk with him - we're the youngest among the guests and I was curious as to why he is travelling. I had a feeling that he is a sort of random adventurer. Alas, I found it hard to penetrate his AT field. I went back to the room and had another round of effortful conversation with one of the Koreans. It was extremely hard to figure out what he was saying, but I tried my best to be as friendly and helpful with his queries. The next morning, out of sheer boredom I took a jeep for Luneta and explored the area. Then the following morning, I took a jeep for Pier 15 and boarded a 2Go ferry for CDO.
We arrived at CDO on the 21st, 8:00 AM, three hours late from the ETA indicated in the ticket - this despite the fact that we arrived in Cebu on time. From the port, I took a jeep for the Bus Terminal (P15) and took a Bachelor Bus for Butuan (P204, student fare). Last Christmas, I took a plane for CDO and a taxi for the Bus Terminal. It was the 23rd of December, and the terminal was fully-packed with people. The experience was sort of traumatic. Whenever a regular bus arrives, throngs of passengers would frantically meet the moving bus which hasn't even parked and enter even while the original passengers are just getting off. Some got in through the windows. I thought - there's no way I'm getting on a bus like that. I looked for the waiting area for the airconditioned buses, where, surprisingly, there's a queue, which, not surprisingly, wasn't much of a queue either. Passengers just inserted themselves wherever they could. I waited for three buses before I got in. To do so, I had to push myself and shove those that get in my way.
This time however, the terminal appears to be more organized. The three pesos entrance fee that I paid includes free use of comfort room - which looks clean - and wifi! Most of the airconditioned buses also had wifi onboard. Running short of cash, I took a non-airconditioned bus for Butuan. We arrived in Gingoog City five hours later - which was unusually long. We weren't very far from the terminal when the engine broke. The konduktor refunded only P70 from my original fare. I waited for a Butuan-bound van, where I paid P100. We arrived in Butuan after two hours. That means seven hours from CDO to Butuan. This, for the record, is the longest trip I had between these two cities, which normally takes only four hours. A number of areas in the Misamis provinces have speed limits of 30 and 40kph and were marked as "accident prone". From Gingoog to Carmen and Buenavista, a great length of the highway are under construction. Vehicles had to take turns to pass portions of the highway where only a single vehicle fits.
A few more observations. I thought there's a logging ban in Caraga, but why does everything seem to be business as usual? Why were they repairing roads at this time of the year? I even saw a machine cracking a good stretch of what appears to be well-cemented road.
Nevertheless, hello Mindanao. It feels great to be back.
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